


Mahal's Blueprints

by orphan_account



Series: Mahal's Blueprints [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bombur is wiser than he seems, Brief mention of Past Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Lovely Bofur, M/M, Past Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Some angst, but funny happy sex too, past Bofur/OC, this is a boffins fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-22 23:04:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18537283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Bilbo comes to Bofur's room in Laketown. He wants to forget about the quest for a few hours. Bofur wants to forget about some troubling thoughts himself.Years later, a deeply war-torn hobbit and dwarf meet again.Edit: I decided to orphan this, purely because I'll probably have future NSFW stuff on a different account, but it's still here for those of you who want to read it.





	1. Bofur

* * *

 

Bofur sighed deeply as the hot water soaked into his tired bones.

 

After months on the road and smelling like a ripe, wet dog (not to mention the Company being buried in fish) it felt like ecstasy to ease himself into a steaming bath and wash and de tangle his matted hair. There was even good smelling bath oil and soap and he made use of both as the water became greyer with all the muck he'd scrubbed off. Well, the physical muck.

 

He couldn't help but feel they were all being bribed by the Master of Laketown. Oh, of course they all wanted to go and see if they could make it into the mountain, but it was doubtful to Bofur and most of the rest of the Company that the Master was doing it out of the goodness of his heart, and he further doubted that it was even for the benefit of the people of Laketown, let alone the dwarves.

 

Bofur shook himself like a dog, splashing water everywhere as he exited the tub, then began to towel dry his hair. It was warmer in the building than other parts of the town, but the chill still started to seep into his bones again once he walked into the bedroom, and he hurriedly began putting on the layers of oversized clothes that had been washed and dried for him. He couldn't fault the service.

 

He began to feel warmer as his hair dried. Dwarves were built for the mountains, so while it was chilly, it would have been more so if he had been a man, and the heat from his body gave him some comfort. He finished his braids and considered going down to the bar. Maybe have a pint. Maybe Nori would be up for some betting.

 

Maybe Bilbo would be up.

 

He tried to ignore the tight, pleasant feeling in his chest at the thought of the burglar.

 

It was becoming much more difficult to do so now that they were relatively safe in the quarters the Master of Laketown had granted them. Knowing that Bilbo was just a few doors away made his heart beat a little faster than normal.

 

The little hobbit had captured Bofur's curiosity since Bag End, and he'd felt driven to protect the smaller being on their journey as their friendship grew. It was in Bofur's nature to protect those that were smaller or less abled. He did it with his little brother, with Bifur since his war injury, and by being an uncle to Bombur's fourteen children. Dwarves were a race with very few women born to them, so there were always more male dwarves that became caregivers. So it wasn't surprising that he felt the need to shield Bilbo from things, be they charging elves or Thorin's more barbed criticisms of the halfling, though those had thankfully eased off now.

 

What _had_ turned out to be _s_ urprising was how brave Bilbo was.

 

Bofur felt that he was not the bravest of dwarves. In fact, there had been times during their quest when he had been utterly terrified, and he knew the hobbit felt the same way at times. But Bilbo still put himself at risk time and time again to save them.

 

It marvelled Bofur that something so small and soft looking could have that much courage. Even Thorin had finally accepted him.

 

Something uglier twisted in Bofur's chest as he thought of Thorin.

 

All dwarves were jealous creatures. It was in their nature and Mahal had made them that way, but Bofur felt disgusted with himself all the same. It seemed at odds with the rest of him at times. He was a gentler soul than most but he wasn't immune to envy.

 

He'd seen the way Bilbo looked at the king. He wanted his acceptance. He'd seen how hurt the hobbit had looked when Thorin admonished him on the cliff face after saving him. But then he'd seen how grateful Thorin had been to Bilbo when he had saved his life in return and eventually Bofur had admitted bitterly to himself that not all of the glares he shot at Thorin's back were solely out of concern for the hobbit.

 

It wasn't a fair assessment. His king finally saw the worth in Bilbo, and he couldn't blame Thorin for that. He had _wanted_ him to respect Bilbo. But he didn't like the way he felt powerless to control the lurching feeling in his chest, even if he could control his actions.

 

If it was what made Bilbo happy...then he'd be glad of it, even if it ached slightly.

 

He rolled his eyes and mentally kicked himself.

 

“By Mahal.”

 

Now was not the time to be thinking about all this. In two days they'd be heading up that mountain. He needed to be his usual optimistic self, for his sake as much as the Company's.

 

Right. It was decided, then. He'd go downstairs for a pint or two. He was at least a happy and affectionate drunk when it came to downing ale. He grabbed his hat off the bed, plunked it on his shaggy head, and pulled the door open.

 

He was met with Bilbo, standing in front of him, his arm held in such a way that showed he'd been about to knock on Bofur's door, his little brow furrowed.

 

Every ugly thought in the universe vanished and it was all Bofur could do not to grin stupidly at the hobbit.

 

“Bilbo,” he said warmly.

 

“Um...hello,” said Bilbo, his arm dropping to swing at his side. He looked agitated about something.

 

“Ye alright, lad?

 

Bilbo walked into the room and tentatively pushed the door shut. His nose twitched.“Yes, um...it's just I need to talk to you about something, if that's okay.”

 

“Of course!”

 

Bilbo looked at the floor, uncertain. “Just...don't tell the others, especially not Thorin, but I'm...I'm”

 

Bofur tilted his head.“Yer what, Bilbo?”

 

“I'm frightened.”

 

Bofur melted, his protective streak fiercely drawing him to the hobbit and he hugged him gently. “Hey now,” he said. “We're _all_ a little afraid of going up there. No shame in admitting it.”

 

“Yes, I just can't stop _thinking_ about it. I want to stop thinking about it. But...I can't. I don't want the others to know. I gave them my word, and I intend to keep it, but I would just...I want...”

 

Bilbo whimpered against the dwarf as Bofur held him close.

 

“Yer mind's full, is that what yer saying?”

 

Bilbo nodded. “I don't think I can even sleep. I think...maybe once we're on our way I'll feel better, but right now I don't.”

 

 _Oh, Bilbo._ Thought Bofur. _Brave, brave Bilbo. Still scared yet still determined to do the right thing._

 

“We can talk about it, if you like,” began Bofur. “We...”

 

“No!” said Bilbo, startling the dwarf. “Sorry...ah. No...” he said softly. “I...I don't want to think about it right now, I just don't want to be _alone_.”

 

“Would you rather we go downstairs? Maybe Bifur and Nori will be there and the atmosphere...”

 

“No,” Bilbo whispered, his little hand fisted in Bofur's tunic as he curled up against him. “I want to be up here. With you.”

 

And as Bofur felt Bilbo bury his face in his chest, he realized what Bilbo was asking for.

 

“I want to forget,” said Bilbo quietly. “Just for tonight. I want to feel safe. You make me feel safe.”

 

Bofur nearly laughed, which would have been woefully inappropriate but he managed to bite it back in time. It would have been a laugh of sheer joy and surprise, but he didn't want Bilbo to get the wrong idea and think Bofur was laughing _at_ him. Instead he wrapped his arms tighter around the halfling, happily burying his nose in Bilbo's sandy curls. The hobbit smelt fresh from his own bath. “Are you sure?” he whispered softly.

 

“Yes. I think...that is if you want to.”

 

The dwarf pulled back to look at Bilbo's sweet, hopeful face, his own brown eyes filled with mirth.

 

“Aye. I think I'd like that very much. Can't say my mind has been all that quiet of late either.”

 

Bilbo smiled softly and his arms came up to rest on Bofur's broad shoulders. His Tookish side had brought him to Bofur's door after wrestling with the Baggins side, and it had won. If the Shire folk back home only knew the respectable Mr. Baggins was about to go to bed with a shaggy dwarf they'd be gossiping about it and shooting him dirty looks for years to come. But here, in this room, he was free to do what he liked, and the thought made his Tookish side feel pleasantly wicked and victorious.

 

Bofur placed his large hands on either side of Bilbo's waist in return, then leaned in and pressed his lips to the hobbit's. A soft whimper came from Bilbo and Bofur deepened the kiss in response, his heart thudding in his chest. Bilbo gripped the dwarf's collar and opened his mouth, giving the dwarf access to heat and warmth.

 

Suddenly Bilbo was up against the door, his legs wrapped around the dwarf's waist as Bofur's mouth found his throat. There was a split second where Bilbo felt confusion as lips left his neck and then he was falling.

 

Bofur yelped and hit the floor with a loud thump, dragging Bilbo with him .

 

“Are you okay?” cried Bilbo, looking down at him with concern and finally relief as he saw Bofur was laughing.

 

“I'm fine, laddie. Better than fine. It's just...er...your sword is poking me.”

 

Bilbo furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “But I'm not...yet...oh!” He realized he still had Sting attached to his belt.

 

“Aye, I meant an actual sword,” laughed Bofur, as Bilbo undid his belt and discarded both it and Sting. His oversized coat followed. Powerful arms reached back up to pull the hobbit flush against the dwarf's body, and Bilbo let out a squeak of surprise as Bofur rolled them over and looked towards the bed.

 

“I reckon I can walk a few feet to the more comfortable option,” smirked Bofur, as he stood up, hands reaching down under Bilbo's knees and arms so he could lift and carry the hobbit. “You can poke me with something much more comfortable there too.”

 

“Are you always this shameless when it comes to innuendo?”

 

“Nay. I can be even more so.”

 

They smiled at each other, Bofur's a toothy grin.

 

He had crooked teeth which Bilbo had initially thought looked unattractive when he met the dwarf but after spending time with Bofur, the hobbit realized it suited him down to the ground: An odd looking sort, who was so cheerful and generous that any features he had lit up with warmth regardless of how wonky they looked.

 

Bilbo smiled and bounced happily as Bofur dropped him onto the soft bed. He waited for the dwarf to join him, and was surprised to see Bofur kneel down at the foot of the bed, his eyeline level with one large hobbity foot.

 

Bofur stroked the curly hair on Bilbo's left foot then planted a soft kiss on the sole.

 

Bilbo raised an eyebrow and sat up. “Bofur...what are you doing?”

 

The dwarf snickered, sat down on the edge of the bed and began massaging the hobbit's feet. “Helping you relax. I could feel how tense you were while I was gettin' run through at the door.”

 

“Oh,” said Bilbo, laying back down. He breathed deeply. It felt undeniably good.

 

In truth, Bofur had been enchanted by the hobbit's hairy little toes since falling through his door at Bag End. And somewhat fascinated. Dwarves were hairy all over but hobbits seem to have most of their hair on their feet, and Bofur found it strangely endearing.

 

“That...feels nice,” breathed Bilbo as Bofur massaged his thumbs deeper into the balls of the burglar's feet, taking his time, enjoying the noises of approval coming from the hobbit. He moved to the other foot, treating it the same way. Finally he gently placed it on the bed enjoying the look of a more relaxed hobbit behind him.

 

“Now then,” he said, leaning over Bilbo's prone form and smiling warmly. “What shall we do with the rest of you?”

 

Bofur felt something in his chest come undone when Bilbo beamed back at him. He looked a lot calmer. He gently ran a hand down Bofur's arm. “Generally, it's customary to get undressed first,” he said softly.

 

“Oh, aye,” grinned Bofur, enjoying the newfound sparkle in Bilbo's eye, and he climbed off the bed and began stripping off. “Definitely wouldn't want pesky clothes getting in the way.” His eyes raked over the hobbit's form as he said this,and he pulled off the baggy Laketown clothes he had been gifted. He flung his hat into the corner, pulled off his shirt and finally discarded his long johns and woolly socks.

 

Bilbo watched him with keen interest and some measure of curiosity. Bofur was dusted all over with dark hair, stocky, round in the belly and heavily muscled in the arms. The hobbit decided he liked the view.

 

“Ye just gonna stare? Not that I would mind unwrapping you myself,” chuckled the dwarf.

 

Bilbo felt his face go hot. “Um...what, yes...sorry,” he muttered, and began peeling off his shirt. He quickly shucked off his trousers and underwear then sat up on the edge of the bed.

 

Bofur's eyes were dark as he approached, his pupils blown wide as he took in the sight of Bilbo naked. Apart from his head, feet, a light smattering of hairs on his chest and between his legs, the hobbit was hairless. It shouldn't appeal to a dwarf, but it did to Bofur, simply because it was Bilbo, and he wouldn't change a thing about him.

 

“Come here,” whispered Bilbo, his Took side taking over completely and his arms encircling the dwarf's neck, pulling him downward. Bofur's arms wrapped around the smaller man's waist as their lips met once more.

 

Bilbo's lips were soft and Bofur groaned as they parted to make way for his tongue. He was almost painfully hard already, and growled softly when Bilbo pulled him towards the head of the bed, wriggling until the dwarf was nestled between his legs. Their kisses became more heated and Bofur trailed a line of them, rough and open mouthed down Bilbo's jaw onto his throat. The noise Bilbo made in response delighted the miner, and he made a note to file away all of the hobbit's most sensitive places in his brain should this ever happen more than once.

 

He felt Bilbo's hands in his hair, felt the hobbit's nimble fingers start to do undo his braids. Oh, it felt lovely. Were it not for the fierce need growing steadily inside him, he could have happily lain there enjoying the feel of the burglar's hands carding through his hair all night. Bilbo unsnarled the thick, dark strands, then buried his fingers in them as Bofur leaned in for another hungry kiss. He continued down his throat, nibbling at his collarbone, his chest, lips closing around one of the hobbit's nipples.

 

“Bofur...!”

 

The dwarf laughed against Bilbo's chest, happy to have found another one of Bilbo's sweet spots. He _loved_ how sensitive Bilbo was so far. His thick fingers stroked the hobbit's belly and thigh lazily.

 

“Don't think Mahal could have done a better job with regards to yer blueprints,” he grinned, giving one of Bilbo's buttocks a squeeze.

 

“Then it's a good thing Mahal wasn't the one who made me,” Bilbo quipped.

 

The dwarf laughed softly, continuing to stroke Bilbo's soft skin and planting kisses on his belly and happy trail. “Aye. I'm rather thankful he had a wife.”

 

Bilbo was about to reply that he wasn't exactly sure it was Yavanna that had made hobbits. Instead, his hands began fisting in the bedsheets as Bofur continued his downward journey. The dwarf kissed the junction between Bilbo's hip and leg and felt small hands sink into his hair again.

 

“Bof...mmmph...”

 

The dwarf had taken him into his mouth and Bilbo whined softly at the hot, wet feel of being engulfed.

 

Bofur was doing his best to ignore his own erection, though the urge to grind into the bedsheets was strong. He wanted Bilbo to enjoy every second of this, even if it never happened again, and he didn't fully know what Bilbo would want for the rest of the evening yet. But for now, he was going to do his best to make him feel good. To make him forget everything bad in the world for a brief time. He hoped he would be able to forget too.

 

Bofur sucked, licked, swirled his tongue over Bilbo's erection and the halfling was finding it impossible to do anything but writhe and whimper. His breathing was starting to become ragged and his hands fisted in Bofur's thick hair.

 

“Bof...gonna...wait...I'm going to...”

 

Bofur didn't dare stop. He glided his tongue across Bilbo's crown and the hobbit went rigid with a wail as he emptied himself into Bofur's mouth.

 

The dwarf swallowed greedily, then moved up to Bilbo's lips for another plundering kiss before rolling off to the side. He propped his head up up on his elbow and gently ran his other hand down the halfling's side as Bilbo tried to catch his breath. The miner's eyes sparkled as he took in the sight of him, flushed and spent.

 

“What about you?” asked Bilbo, once his breathing had slowed.

 

“Whatever ye like,” Bofur replied. “Yer hands, yer mouth, whatever you're most comfortable with.” He felt it necessary to give Bilbo another option, in case none of those things were what he wanted.

 

“Or I could finish myself.” His breath was hot in Bilbo's ear. “As long as I get to look at ye while I do it,” he murmured.

 

Bilbo felt a shot of lust down his spine. He liked that idea very much, but he wanted to touch the dwarf himself.

 

“There's...there's the other thing. But I've never done it before.”

 

“Oh, aye?”

 

“I have to admit I'd feel nervous about it.”

 

“Then we won't do it then. I don't want to hurt you.” Bofur was partly relieved. Though it would have been nice to have the hobbit, he was exhausted, and he wasn't sure Bilbo was ready for that anyway.

 

 

Bilbo reached up and gently stroked the dwarf's face. His thumb ran circles across the miners bare cheek, his fingers stroked his moustache, flicked his boar tusk earring. “You'd never hurt me, Bofur.” Bofur hoped the way he was gazing at Bilbo could be disguised as merely lust rather than adoration.

 

“Aye, I'd do everything I could not to.” He kissed the inside of Bilbo's wrist softly, causing the hobbit to shiver slightly.

 

“Well then. Hands, if you're amiable.”

 

Bofur grinned. “Oh, Mr. Baggins. You drive such a hard bargain.” They laughed together, which warmed Bofur's heart. It felt so good being here with Bilbo, and not just because they had tumbled into bed together.

 

Bilbo thought for a moment. “There might be a way to make it even more enjoyable,” he said.“Did you get given some of that nice smelling bath oil?”

 

“Aha! Say no more!”

 

Bilbo tried not to laugh as he watched the miner practically trip across the floor to the washroom. He felt warm and soft in his bubble of afterglow, and there was more to come. He was _safe_ with Bofur. Safe with his friend who would never hurt him if he could help it.

 

Bofur returned quickly, carrying the bottle, and Bilbo took it from him, pouring some on his small hands without preamble. He gestured to Bofur to sit up, and the dwarf did. Bilbo straddled him, then took him in hand.

 

Bofur groaned and buried his face in the hobbit's shoulder as the halfling stroked him, running his thumb over the head of Bofur's cock and smearing oil and pre cum over it.

 

The noises coming from the dwarf stirred Bilbo's interest again and his cock twitched against his leg.

 

“What have we here?” teased Bofur.

 

“Why do you think hobbits have so many children?” Bilbo mumbled into the dwarf's ear.

 

“Oh, I like that. Rather envious of the ability myse--” Bilbo cut him off with another well timed stroke.

 

“No talking,” he whispered, which nearly had Bofur spending himself right then and there. “I only want to hear moans of pleasure.”

 

The Took side was well and truly dominant now and Bofur whimpered as he fucked himself into Bilbo's hand.

 

“Want to touch you though,” the dwarf moaned.

 

Bilbo maneuvered Bofur's hand onto his own cock with a generous helping of oil.

 

After that it was difficult for either of them to make any sounds that weren't grunts and moans, but towards the end of a particularly skilled stroke by Bofur, Bilbo whispered his name in a breathy voice and Bofur came undone, spilling himself over the hobbit's hand and belly with a long, loud groan. Bilbo followed suit soon after, burying his head in Bofur's neck as he cried out.

 

They both felt completely wrung out and boneless, and collapsed onto the bed together, both wriggling until their heads were on the pillows.

 

Bofur reached for the towel next to the bed and cleaned them off gently, then wrapped an arm around Bilbo's shoulders. To his delight, the halfling curled up against him and laid a hand on his chest. They lay there that way for some minutes, Bofur lazily tracing circles across Bilbo's shoulder with his thumb.Then he felt Bilbo shiver.

 

He realized Bilbo would feel the cold in the room much more than the dwarf would, and he reached down and grabbed his tunic off the floor.

 

“Here, Bilbo,” he said gently, helping the burglar into the garment that looked even bigger on him than on the dwarf. Then he pulled the thick blankets over them both.

 

He was rewarded with a soft smile. “Thank you, Bofur.” The dwarf made a pleased sound in his throat in return as Bilbo curled up against him again, and soon the soft sound of the hobbit's snores filled his ears.

 

Bofur was beginning to doze off in his state of bliss too, when a sharp knock at the door shook him awake.

 

He quickly looked down at Bilbo, who thankfully remained fast asleep.

 

Bofur growled and flung his side of the bedsheets aside, and picked up the large robe he'd been wearing off the floor, tying it around his body with his scarf so he'd have some level of decency in front of Mahal knows who.

 

He gently opened the door a crack. One beady eye stared back at him in alarm. It was Bombur.

 

“I just wanted to check if you wanted to come downstairs. There's going to be quite the party. The Master has laid on lots of food. And there will be ale.”

 

“Thanks, Bombur. But I'm feelin' kinda tired if I'm honest.”

 

“Oh, I didn't wake you, did I? Not like you to turn down free ale at any rate.”

 

“No..I wasn't sleepin'.”

 

“Well if you feel like coming down we'd be more than happy to...” The thin shaft of light coming from the open door illuminated the hobbit, who had curled up into Bofur's side of the bed, as if sensing his absence.

 

Bombur looked at his brother in shock.

 

“Bofur! What if Thorin finds out?”

 

“Shush!” Bofur gently closed the door behind him and joined Bombur in the hallway. “Let's go talk in yer room. I don't much care for the thought of talkin' about this out in the open.”

 

They walked down the hallway, and Bofur could feel his brother's eyes boring into his back with judgement.

 

Once they were safely in Bombur's room, Bofur whirled round. “No one is going to find out about this, alright?”

 

“I wasn't going to tell anyone, but like I said, what if Thorin finds out?”

 

“Well he didn't go to Thorin, did he?” Bofur hissed. “He came to _my_ room.” He was surprised at just how _defensive_ he felt about the whole situation.

 

Bombur titled his head. That hadn't been the reaction he had expected. Hadn't been the words in the script that had formed in his mind with regards to discussing the hobbit with his older brother. But everything suddenly clicked into place. Bofur was very protective of Bilbo. But Bofur was a protective dwarf in general, so perhaps that was why he hadn't noticed.

 

“Brother,” he said softly, and Bofur winced.

 

“Don't look at me like that.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like ye pity me.”

 

“I don't pity you, I just don't want you to get hurt if your feelings go further.”

 

Bofur gave him a pointed look as if to say “it's a bit late for that, mate.”

 

Bombur sighed and the older dwarf softened. He realized the situation was now reversed. His younger brother was now trying to protect _him_. Then Bofur laughed.

 

“Ye worry too much. Look, all will be well. The hobbit's just a bit lonely is all. All he can think about is the mountain and the dragon and he needed me to distract him.”

 

That was true enough, though he pushed down a stray wisp of a thought that threatened to tell him it was nothing more than that and that was all it would ever be. He didn't want to think about that. Not right now.

 

Bombur wasn't fooled, and Bofur could tell. “Look, just...let me have this, okay?” said the miner. “Just for tonight.”

 

After a long pause, Bombur looked at the floor, nodded and placed a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. Then, with a nod he opened the door and made his way down the hallway in the direction of the scent of food.

 

* * *

 

When Bofur returned he took extra care not to make any noise. It was a bit silly, really. The party was getting rowdy downstairs and there was plenty of noise anyway, but he was relieved to see the hobbit was still asleep.

 

Very, very gently he eased himself into bed and slowly wrapped his arm around the halfling's small frame.

 

When he made sure the hobbit was snoring gently and very much asleep and couldn't hear him, he dared it:

 

“I love ye, ye funny wee thing,” he whispered, and planted a soft kiss on Bilbo's brow. Bilbo, oblivious, continued to snore as one of his small hands closed around one of the ends of Bofur's long strands of hair.

 

 


	2. Bilbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul is in italics when it is used.

**The Shire, three years later.**

 

“Go away!” shouted Bilbo, his voice half cracked. He couldn't _believe_ that woman. He was rather sure she would have preferred that he had not lived so she could get her greedy paws on Bag End. He didn't need this right now. He never needed it, but Lobelia's timing was particularly bad this time round when it came to knocking on his door.

 

He had been curled up in his armchair with a cup of tea in his hands, when the grief had hit him again.

 

He was never sure when it was going to strike, but sometimes an errant thought would bring it on, or even a smell, and he had ended up sobbing into his tea, his tears mixing with the sugar and milk.

 

The knock on the door came again, a bit more tentatively this time. Bilbo wiped his face as best he could and charged over to the door, flinging it open aggressively and ready to scream in Lobelia's face, even if he sobbed until he was hoarse while doing it.

 

Instead he stopped in shock as he was met with the white bushy beard and kindly eyes of Balin the dwarf.

 

“B-Balin!” A smile spread across the hobbit's face and he threw himself into the dwarf's beard, hugging him tightly. He couldn't believe it. One of his friends was here!

 

Balin chuckled and released the hobbit, then looked over his shoulder to where Bombur was standing.

 

“Bombur!” Bilbo ran over and gave the rotund dwarf a great big hug, nearly bouncing off his belly as he did so.

 

Then, finally, another familiar face appeared. It was Bofur, looking very much the same with his silly hat and a sheepish grin, except perhaps a little more worldliness in and around his eyes.

 

“Hello, Bilbo.”

 

The hobbit practically launched himself into the miner's strong arms, and Bofur held him tight as he lifted him off the ground in a bear hug. “It's so good to see you,” said Bilbo.

 

“You too, Bilbo. I missed ye.” He gently placed the hobbit back on his feet, and Bilbo quickly ushered them into the house with “come in, come in, I'll put the kettle on!”

 

* * *

 

Balin, Bombur and Bofur were on their way to Ered Luin to prepare for the migration of the Blue Mountain dwarves to the reclaimed Erebor.

 

“It would be extremely remiss of us not to stop by and look in on you on the way there,” said Balin. They were all sat around Bilbo's kitchen table drinking tea.

 

“Well I'm very glad you did,” said Bilbo truthfully, “though I worry I may not be the best of company. Relatives have been driving me mad with their incessant pestering for one thing, and then...well, and then...”

 

He twitched his nose nervously. “Well, you know,” he said simply.

 

Balin smiled sadly. “We are here if you need to discuss anything, Bilbo, and if you'd rather we give you space we'd be happy to, even if that means us moving on.”

 

Bofur stared hard at the surface of the table.

 

“Oh, no,” said Bilbo. “I didn't mean that you were all unwelcome. You can stay as long as you like. It's just...I'm not the same hobbit I once was. Gandalf did warn me that might happen.”

 

“Well like I said, laddie, we're more than willing to discuss things with you should you feel up to it.”

 

Bilbo smiled softly. “Thank you.”

 

Bilbo made up the two guest bedrooms so that his visitors would have somewhere to rest their weary heads. Bombur and Bofur shared one bedroom while Balin took the remaining room.

 

As Bilbo made his way to his own bedroom that night, he mused that it felt good to have company in the house again, even if that company felt incomplete. It was better than the empty stillness that had plagued him since his return.

 

* * *

 

“Bofur? _BOFUR_.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Are you awake?” whispered Bombur in the darkness.

 

“Well I am now,” hissed his sibling, grumpily. “There had better be a good reason ye've woken me up, Bombur.”

 

“I was just thinking about what Bilbo said earlier.”

 

Bofur immediately became more attentive at the mention of the halfling. “What do ye mean?”

 

“About how Gandalf said he wouldn't be the same hobbit if he returned.”

 

Bofur moaned and covered his eyes with the back of his arm. “Don't tell me yer going to start to spin a stupid story like when we were kids about how he's a changeling or some such or other.”

 

“No! Nothing like that.” Bombur pushed back the bedcovers and moved across the room to sit on Bofur's bed. The older dwarf felt the dip where his brother sat in the darkness. It reminded him of when they had been dwarflings and used to stay up late talking after their parents had ordered them to go to sleep. “It's just that I was wondering,” continued Bombur. “Why do you think Gandalf chose Bilbo for the quest?”

 

“He explained why. He said hobbits are light on their feet and can sneak around where we can't.”

 

“Yes, but why Bilbo specifically? Why this hobbit?”

 

“I dunno. He said somethin' about him bein' a Took.”

 

Bombur went quiet. “A Took,” he said to himself.

 

“It's a family name. Somethin' about havin' an adventurous streak.”

 

“But do you think he's still a Took? He said the quest had changed him.”

 

Bofur grunted in the darkness.

 

“But Bofur...”

 

“Go to sleep,” hissed Bofur again and he threw a pillow at Bombur's head and made “shooing” noises until his younger sibling retreated to his own bed.

 

Eventually Bombur's snores drifted across the room, but Bofur took a long time to fall asleep after that.

 

* * *

 

 

The trio ended up staying for much longer than they had anticipated. Bofur had argued that Bilbo seemed lonely and that he was worried about him. Bilbo never gave any sign that they had overstayed their welcome. In fact, he seemed quite pleased he had friends around him again and had insisted that they stay as long as they liked.

 

Bombur was not surprised that Bofur seemed keen on this idea.

 

Despite Balin's offer, however, Bilbo never opened up about anything regarding the war. He was like a little engine that fed off the dwarves' energy, but fell back into stillness whenever conversation went quiet and he did not prompt it again.

 

The dwarves helped him with domestic chores around Bag End, and sat with him, sharing pipe weed on the bench in the evenings. Once or twice there was a walk, and sometimes they just left him to it on days that they sensed he needed a bit of space.

 

On one such particular day, Bilbo said he needed to be alone for a while so the dwarves headed out to explore the Shire. Bombur in particular was drawn to the Hobbiton market and its fresh, delicious wares. Bofur wandered off on his own.

 

Balin and Bombur found him lying under an apple tree later in only his tunic and trousers. His body was laying half in and out of the shade and his hat was tipped over his eyes to shield them from the brightness of the sun. Still, he was clearly enjoying the warmth.

 

“We're thinking of going to the Green Dragon later,” announced Bombur.

 

Bofur tipped his hat back at the sound of his brother's voice. “Sounds like a plan,” he said.

 

“Oh, no. Not you,” said Bombur. “Just us”.

 

Bofur pouted. “Why would you be denyin' me ale?”

 

“Because,” said Balin, squatting down so he was closer to Bofur. “You have things to talk to Bilbo about that we don't.”

 

A small huff of laughter came from the miner and he tipped his hat back over his eyes. “Mahal. You manipulative bastards.”

 

“Don't act like you don't need alone time. He's not exactly been forthcoming on...well, most things.”

 

“That's understandable in light of what happened. He was there when Thorin passed.”

 

They all went quiet for a moment at the thought of their lost king.

 

“At any rate,” said Bombur, “You've always been the talker in the family.”

 

“Pfft. Ye sayin' I'm a loudmouth?”

 

“I'm saying if anyone knows how to talk to Bilbo it's you. Even if it's not about you and him personally.”

 

“What would we have to talk about personally?”

 

“I think you know.”

 

Bofur pushed his hat further down his face to hide his burning cheeks.

 

“Alright,” he mumbled, finally. “I'll try talkin' to him alone.”

 

“Good,” said Balin.

 

“Have an ale or fifteen for me.”

 

Balin chuckled and stood up. He was about to walk off when Bombur noticed something.

 

“No shoes?” asked the younger brother, raising an eyebrow.

 

Bofur wiggled his toes in the grass. “I kinda like it.”

 

“You were always an odd dwarf,” said Balin and he ducked as Bofur chuckled and threw an apple at his head.

* * *

 

 

Bofur returned to Bag End late afternoon. The rays of the sun looked golden through the smial's round windows. He had expected to see Bilbo puttering in the kitchen, or maybe he was having a nap, so it took him completely by surprise when he pushed the door open and saw Bilbo sitting in his armchair hurriedly wiping tears off his face.

 

“Oh, Bofur...sorry...I thought you'd all gone to the pub.” He attempted a smile but it was obvious he had been crying.

 

They stared at each other, each feeling tentative, not knowing what to say at Bilbo being caught in his state of vulnerability. Then suddenly the halfling burst into tears, and Bofur instantly ran across the room and pulled Bilbo into his arms telling him “it's alright, Bilbo. It's alright,” even if he wasn't sure it was. They both sank to the floor in front of the fireplace, the dwarf rocking the hobbit gently.

 

Bofur was somewhat ready for it. He'd had his own version of this conversation with his older cousin Bifur after the war and it had included copious amounts of sobbing, grief for his lost friends, repeating nightmares about Smaug attacking Laketown (including the horrible smell of cooked, burnt flesh) and _WHY did his family leave him to be attacked by a dragon and Bilbo, Bilbo Bilbo, oh why did the hobbit have to leave?_

 

It had broken him, but getting it all out and talking to Bifur and Bombur about it had made him able to slowly heal, even if there were scars. They'd all had their own tears to shed.

 

But Bilbo had no one to talk to about it. No one would understand what he had gone through unless they had been there. No one in the Shire had seen a dragon, or faced the horrors of the battlefield.

 

The hobbit was wailing now. “It hurts so much,” he managed between sobs. “Why did he have to leave? Why did he have to go to war?”

 

“I don't know,” said Bofur truthfully.

 

“It hurt when he tried to throw me...over...I mean, I know it was the gold-sickness, but it...still hurt...”

 

“Oh, Bilbo.” He remembered when the halfling had confided in him about feeling safe.

 

Tears continued to stream down Bilbo's face. “Is there something wrong with me? That I still loved him even after what he did? After he tried to throw me off the rampart? I gave away the Arkenstone. Is it my fault?”

 

“No. Bilbo, no. It's not wrong that you loved Thorin. And it sounds like you made him a better dwarf.”

 

“But how can you say that when I clearly failed at that? I thought he'd see sense but that didn't happen until it was too late and he was...dying. Then I saw the real Thorin again and he was _taken_ from me.” The sobs were coming thick and fast now. Bofur handed him his handkerchief and gently held the hobbit by his shoulders while Bilbo blew his nose.

 

“Can I tell you something?” asked the dwarf. Bilbo stilled and nodded through his curtain of tears.

 

Bofur held the hobbit close. “When I was young—Mahal! I was practically a pebble now that I think of it. Not much younger than Fili and Kili were-- I met a handsome character. He had the most gorgeous green eyes and bushiest beard and I was smitten pretty fast. Fell hard on my arse for him, I did, and I was overjoyed that he returned me attentions. Felt like I could do absolutely anything in me life with him by me side.”

 

The happy lines around Bofur's eyes smoothed out for a second, then he continued: “But after a while it seemed like there was nothing I could do that pleased him. Everything I did seemed to make him angry, and one day I came home from the tavern after a night out with friends, and...well...let's just say he hurt me and leave it at that.”

 

Bilbo wrapped his arms around Bofur's neck and hugged him. “No...” he whispered, not daring to imagine what Bofur meant specifically but having a pretty good idea.

 

“I'm fine,” said the miner. “It was a long time ago, as I said. Before ye were even born. But I brought it up for a reason. Bilbo, listen to me. What ye did to help us all, it wasn't wrong. Thorin was a good man, but he was sick. That's not an excuse for what he did, but it's a reason. What that dwarf in the Blue Mountains did to me when I was younger, he had neither reason nor excuse and he _wasn't_ a good man. But I blamed meself all the same, because I still had feelings for him. I couldn't turn the feelings off, even after I walked out. So I understand, but I'm here to tell you from the benefit of experience, that it was _nothing_ you did. You were _not_ the reason Thorin did what he did, and I'm sure from what you tell me that he saw right in the end.”

 

Bilbo broke down completely then and sobbed into Bofur's shoulder. Bofur cooed and patted his back and gently said things like “let it out, it's good to cry” and “purge it all out” though he was trying not to cry himself.

 

Eventually the hobbit succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep in Bofur's lap.

 

“Let's get ye to bed, then,” said the dwarf, and he carried Bilbo into his room, placed him on the bed and covered him with a woolly throw. Then he retired to his own bed in the guest bedroom. He felt rather tired as well and fell into a dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

The morning sun streaming through the window hit Bofur's face, and he became aware of the smell of good things frying in the kitchen. No doubt Bombur would be up because of it.

 

Wearing only his long johns, he wrapped the quilt around himself for some extra modesty and went to investigate.

 

Bilbo was in his patchwork robe, frying eggs while Bombur and Balin drank from steaming cups of tea at the kitchen table. This looked like the scene Bofur had been expecting, except for one addition—Bilbo was _humming_.

 

The halfling turned to him and smiled softly. “Second breakfast is ready if you'd like some,” he said.

 

The hobbit _did_ look much calmer.

 

“Aye. That'd be lovely, thank you.”

 

“You might want to get dressed first, laddie,” said Balin.

 

“Oh, it's fine,” said Bilbo. “Everyone can relax in here how they see fit. You're my guests! And it's still early morning.” He led Bofur to the table by the hand and plunked a plate of eggs in front of him when he sat down. The dwarf found that he suddenly had a fierce appetite.

 

Later Bofur joined Bilbo in the back garden.

 

The halfling was looking at his little oak sapling. “I miss him,” he said quietly, when he sensed Bofur's presence behind him.

 

“I know.” The dwarf placed a large hand on Bilbo's shoulder, bracing himself for another barrage of tears, but Bilbo simply smiled sadly and picked up his watering can. He began to tend to his colourful plants and blooms.

 

After a moment, Bofur lit his pipe and watched Bilbo as he doted on his garden. Dwarves were never much for growing things, though Bofur could appreciate that flowers were beautiful to look at. Like gemstones, they came in all sorts of colours. They just didn't last as long.

 

This didn't seem to concern the hobbit, however, and Bilbo looked content to weed and dig and water his botanical friends.

 

The air was warm and the buzzing sound of bees was pleasant to listen to. Bofur felt a calm stillness he hadn't felt since before the war.

 

* * *

 

As the weeks and months passed by Bilbo spent more time outdoors. The presence of his dwarf friends seemed to also have the added bonus of keeping Lobelia away, though he was sure there was much gossip around the Shire involving his larger friends.

 

He even accompanied them to the Green Dragon one evening, and there was much staring and grumbling from the clientele at first, but eventually everyone turned back to their respective conversations and the atmosphere went on as it had before. Some of the hobbits had seen Bombur and Balin come in before so were not particularly surprised.

 

Bilbo sipped his ale. “I suppose I should tell you they all think of me as 'Mad Baggins' over here now, and have done since I returned.”

 

“We all knew ye were mad,” teased Bofur. “Only a mad hobbit would join 13 smelly dwarves and a grumpy wizard on a mad quest to reclaim a kingdom.”

 

“Gandalf was rather grumpy, wasn't he?”

 

“We dwarves are pretty stubborn, so I guess he had a right to be. That and I think he gets antsy when the pipe weed starts runnin' low.”

 

Bilbo chuckled.

 

“We _like_ your kind of mad,” chuckled Balin, patting Bilbo on the shoulder, and the hobbit smiled, this time with his eyes.

 

Bofur wished he could have replayed the moment over and over.

 

Later that evening when everyone else had gone to bed, Bofur sat near the fireplace with his pipe between his teeth as he carved a piece of small firewood he'd picked from the nearby pile. He stayed up until the early hours making sure every part of the figure he was creating looked smooth and correct. He was working from memory, but being a dwarf made that easy. They were all visual craftsmen.

 

Finally he blew away the last of the wood shavings and placed the little carving on the mantelpiece where the hobbit could see it. It was a bumblebee, and he'd made sure that it was the same size and shape as the large bees Beorn had kept in his garden.

 

The next morning as he was eating breakfast at the table, he glanced over Balin's shoulder and saw Bilbo picking up the carving where he had left it. It gave the dwarf a warm glow inside when he saw the corners of Bilbo's mouth twitch upward.

* * *

 

 

Day by day the hobbit seemed stronger, and it was this that made Balin decide that it was time for them to finally move on to Ered Luin and begin preparations for the migration to Erebor.

 

Bombur noticed a change in Bofur nearer to the expected date of their departure. He was quiet, and smoked his pipe under the apple tree in solitude a lot more.

 

“Are you going to tell him? Because if you leave without saying anything I think you'd regret it.”

 

Bofur took a long drag of his pipe then blew out a large puff of smoke. “Maybe tellin' him would just complicate things.”

 

Bombur sat down on the grass next to his brother. “But what if it makes you both happier?”

 

Bofur hugged his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them. “I'd give that little hobbit anything he needed to be happy,” he said truthfully. “But maybe I'm not what he needs.”

 

Bombur wrapped an arm around his older brother's shoulders. “Then how do you explain his change in mood over these past few months?”

 

Bofur grunted non-committally.

 

“I can't believe _I'm_ going to be the one to tell _you_ to cheer up,” laughed Bombur.

 

Bofur groaned.

 

“Just consider it, alright _nadad?_ ”

 

“Alright,” came the soft reply. “But ye both need to be out of the house.”

 

“I'll drink fifteen ales for you.”

 

“Make it thirty. Hobbit ales are tiny.”

 

* * *

 

“Where have you been?” laughed Bilbo, when he spotted a barefoot Bofur walking up the path later that evening. The halfling was on his bench smoking his evening pipe.

 

“Havin' a think,” said Bofur, smiling back.

 

“Well come in and have something to eat. It's well past teatime and I was waiting for you all.”

 

“The others have gone drinking.”

 

“Well there will be more food for us then.”

 

After teatime, (or perhaps it was dinner) Bilbo sat in his armchair while Bofur sat next to the fireplace, watching the light flicker off the hobbit's face.

 

“I suppose in a few days you'll all be out on the road again,” sighed Bilbo.

 

Bofur picked at the skin around his nails. “I would think us eating up the contents of your pantry a second time would be more than enough for one hobbit,” he grinned.

 

Bilbo laughed and Bofur mused that it felt so good to hear that sound again when it had been absent for so long.

 

“No, I'm rather going to miss you all. Though I can't imagine I've been much fun with the way I've been the past few months.”

 

“Not at all. I've enjoyed my time here with you.” _Not_ our _time, not Bombur and Balin's time,_ my _time. It's now or never._

 

“After all, you're very lovable.”

 

Bilbo looked up quizzically at Bofur, who was staring down at his toes and wishing he had thought of a better way to express his feelings. Had that been too much? Not enough? He was sitting a respectful distance from the hobbit and didn't want him to feel crowded.

 

Bilbo stared and the penny dropped.

 

“You...love me?”

 

“Couldn't help it even if I had wanted to,” grinned Bofur, finally looking up at the hobbit though his eyes still searched Bilbo's face for a sign that his words might be taken badly. When there was no response he decided to continue:

 

“Yer kind, yer smart and brave. Maybe the bravest person I know. Yellin' at wizards and kings to do the right thing. You came back when I thought...when I'd hoped you were away from this mess we had all gotten you into.”

 

“That night,” the hobbit said, standing up carefully, “that night I came to you. Did you...feel that way about me then?”

 

Bofur also stood up and moved closer to the hobbit. “Aye. But I wasn't going to tell you that. Didn't feel like you needed the extra burden at the time. I knew how you felt about Thorin...and how he felt about you. I admit I was surprised you were at my door instead of his though.”

 

“You weren't...you're not a burden. I hadn't told Thorin how I felt about him yet. I'd fallen in love with him but his attitude towards the mountain was beginning to make me nervous. You were the only one I felt I could say that to. I came to you because I knew you'd keep me safe. Oh, Bofur. You must think me terribly flighty. I didn't know you had feelings for me. If I had...”

 

Bofur cut the rambling hobbit off by raising his hand. “I had no complaints. I didn't think you were playin' with my heart or anything. Takin' a bit o' pleasure between friends on the road isn't unheard of in times of stress. And we were _all_ stressed.”

 

The dwarf thought about how Thorin had probably cracked under the pressure in his own way. He also remembered how jealous he'd been of Thorin back then. It all seemed so petty now after such death and suffering.

 

“Ye take comfort where ye can find it. And we were about to go into a place guarded by a fire-breathing monster. I'm only sorry that the person _you_ loved _didn't_ make you feel safe at the time.”

 

“I hadn't told him how I felt yet. I told him when we'd left Laketown and we were on our way to Erebor...”

 

“It's alright. Ye don't need to explain. Yer entitled to keepin' secrets on matters of yer heart.” He gripped the smaller male's hand warmly.

 

They were both quiet for nearly a minute, then Bilbo spoke.

 

“I really do need to tell you how good you've been to me, Bofur. Not just on the journey but these past few months as well, and that all of the qualities you see in me are always qualities that I've seen in you.”

 

The dwarf huffed softly. “I'm not brave, Bilbo.”

 

“But you are. And you're kind, and funny and you've always been there for me. I don't think I would have smiled as much on our adventure if you hadn't been there.”

 

“But...?”

 

“But there is no but. Except, maybe...that I need time. To take things slow. This time around.”

 

It took a while for the miner to register what the hobbit was saying.

 

“You mean...?”

 

“I want to give us a chance. I'm very fond of you. In fact...” he took a deep breath. “I...do have feelings for you Bofur. I've felt them growing these past few months. It's just after all this death and misery and Thorin everything has felt so confusing.” The hobbit swallowed, beating back tears again. “So I can't just dive right in, but I do want to try.”

 

A slow, soft smile appeared across the dwarf's face.

 

“So can we take it slowly? And see what happens?” said the hobbit.

 

Bofur grinned his toothy grin. “Oh, aye. I think Bilbo Baggins deserves a proper courtship. Him being so _proper_ and all.”

 

The hobbit swatted Bofur's arm playfully.

 

Bofur turned serious. His eyes grew soft as he stared at the hobbit. “I'll do my level best by ye, Bilbo Baggins. I know I can't replace Tho--”

 

“Shush!” said the halfling. “None of that. It's not about replacing anyone. Don't do yourself down like that or I shall become very cross!”

 

Bofur hummed sheepishly. Bilbo softened.

 

“That was the Took side,” he defended. Then sighed. “I guess I'm more of a Baggins now, given I don't think I'll be going on any adventures in a hurry again anytime soon.”

 

“Yer both,” said Bofur, finally allowing himself to look at the hobbit with complete, unabashed adoration. “Yer perfect.”

 

Bilbo reached up, taking the ends of Bofur's silly hat in both his small hands, then he gently pulled him down for a soft, chaste kiss that prompted a happy squeak from the dwarf.

 

They ended up in the armchair, Bilbo on Bofur's lap, his small hands caressing Bofur's face, much as he had that night in Laketown, and Bofur planting gentle kisses into Bilbo's straw coloured hair. They eventually fell asleep that way, the former burglar's cheek pressed against the dwarf's chest.

 

That was how Bombur and Balin found them the next morning.

 

“Told ya,” said Bombur.

 

“Fine,” grumbled Balin, and he threw his coin purse into Bombur's hands while the rotund dwarf grinned smugly.

 

* * *

 

 

Balin and Bombur left for Ered Luin the following morning, hugging both Bofur and Bilbo goodbye and promising to visit again soon.

 

“Say hello to the wee ones for me. Tell them Uncle Bofur will see them soon.”

 

“I'll be sure to. Love you, _nadad_.”

 

“Come here you big, sappy sod,” grinned Bofur, but he hugged his brother for a very long time before letting go.

 

Bilbo and Bofur watched the pair of dwarves ride away on their ponies, until they disappeared over a hill. Then they turned to each other and smiled.

 

“Bofur,” said Bilbo, “would you like to join me in the garden?”

 

* * *

 

 

They sat on the grass near the little oak sapling. Bilbo was digging little holes in the earth and dropping seeds into them. Bofur sipped a glass of fresh lemonade Bilbo had made for them and tried to pay attention to what the hobbit was explaining to him about seedlings.

 

“I don't know, Bilbo. I don't think I'd be very good at it. It would be like me teachin' ye how to mine.”

 

Bilbo snorted. “I couldn't lift your mattock no matter how hard I tried.”

 

“Is that what ye've started callin' it? I'm flattered, Mr. Baggins.”

 

“Very funny.”

 

Bofur chuckled and knelt down next to Bilbo to look. Bilbo took the dwarf's large hand and placed a seed into his palm. “It's easy. Just put it into the soil, water it, give it plenty of sunshine and it will grow.”

 

Bofur did so.

 

“What will it grow into?” asked the dwarf.

 

Bilbo covered the seed with a small amount of soil and patted it gently until it was smooth.

 

“Something beautiful.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul words:
> 
> nadad- brother
> 
> It never really sat well with me that Bofur would be fine with his family just leaving him in Laketown when Smaug attacked.There were many awful editing desicions in BOTFA, but leaving out Bofur's character arc (which can be read about here: https://avelera.tumblr.com/post/105283060590/what-is-this-about-a-bofur-storyline-that-got) was one of the worst. So I made sure to include his reaction to what happened in Laketown. He's a pretty chill dwarf but I can't imagine he wouldn't have had words to say after that.
> 
> This is also my first Hobbit fic! So if anyone has any crit I'd love to hear it.


End file.
